KOJAK Television series Aired October 24, 1973 to March 18, 1978 Number of episodes-118
The consummate television detective of the 1970's was Theo Kojak. The wise-cracking, ball-busting, dapper lieutenant of the Manhattan South precinct broke the mold before there even was a mold. Sure, there were "The Rockford Files", "The Streets of San Fransisco", "Colombo" and a couple of other bullshit cop/private detective shows on TV, but never before and never again was there an actor who played a cop with such charisma, wit, sarcasm and integrity as Telly Savalas.
His squad room consisted of detectives Crocker, Saperstein, Stavros (Savalas' real-life brother), and Rizzo. Kojak tackled all manner of crime from homicide to organized crime to Wall Street embezzlement, and he did it in style with those fly-ass tailored Botany 500 suits and his ubiquitous hats. He combed the gritty streets of New York City with unbridled panache, streets that were never grittier than in the 1970's. He could charm a sweet-looking babe off a barstool, sweet-talk a witness until they ate out of his hands, and bust some punk junkie or hardened career criminal without breaking a sweat. He was one cool motherfucker. And when that black 4-door Buick pulls out of the station house with the siren blaring, you know it's on.
Kojak and Crocker on the case-
Kojak was the template for his genre, the detective who sometimes bent the rules just far enough to get his man but not far enough that he'd get busted by Internal Affairs. He always played it smooth and was never overwhelmed despite the odds against him. He always cracked the case. The only characters who came remotely close to matching his intensity, grit and authenticity were the officers who worked the Baltimore scene in the HBO crime series "The Wire". Those cats could hold their own against the best of them, but no one has come close to doing it like Telly Savalas, with his trademark cigarillos (which he chain-smoked on and off the screen), Tootsie Roll lollipops and his world-famous catchphrase "Who loves ya, baby!!!".
What set this series apart was the neo-noir authenticity of the plot lines. The stories were, incredibly for a TV series, extremely well-written. There were moments of brevity and comedy that never sunk to childish buffoonery. The viewing audience were never going to be subjected to a jive-ass turkey like Huggy Bear from "Starsky and Hutch" written into any of the scripts. The setting itself became a central character, with the constant shots of New York City at all hours of the day and night permeating the atmosphere and setting the tone for each individual episode.
One underrated aspect of the series was the manner in which Lieutenant Kojak busted the balls of his own detectives. Though he maintained an air of authority that for the most part went unquestioned (one could feel the undercurrent of unquestioning respect everyone had for him in the station house, denoting Kojak's years of experience and unflinching integrity), he was still the boss at a very difficult job and expected his men to rise to the occasion.
You can catch the episodes from the first three seasons on Hulu.com. Don't miss what is hands-down the best detective show ever produced for television. Kojak was the fucking man, and no one has done it better. Fuck "Law and Order". That show can't hold a candle to my man Telly Savalas. Word up.
And what TV drama had the best opening theme music? You guessed it-
You know what I'm sayin'? This broad is too fine to have passed under the radar of our producers here at "Busting Chops" for so long. She acts. She models. She's a beautiful Latina who has just enough talent (barely, I must admit) to not have to resort to doing porno movies. What more could you ask for out of a woman?
This stunning Cuban-American beauty began her career as a music video whore for the likes of jackasses like will Smith. She then graduated to the always pathetic soap opera circuit before getting "noticed" (code word for she fucked the right producer/director and finally made it to the big time) embarking on a career in Hollywood. She's starred in crappy, bullshit movies that will never make anyone's top 100 list of greatest movies of all time, but who cares? She loooks mahvelous, dahling-absolutely mahvelous!!! and that's all that counts.
She is also an international spokeswoman for Revlon cosmetics, as if she needs any to look stunning. Maybe all those fat, horsed-faced, perpetually pms-ing losers who buy make-up and slather that crap on their grills hope to wake up looking like her need it, but hey, Eva's selling a fantasy, and we all know fantasies NEVER fucking come true.
Casey Anthony takes Amy Fisher one step further...
Remember Amy Fisher, the so called "Long Island Lolita" who shocked the world after shooting her Guido douchebag boyfriend's wife in the face? Well, we have another contestant in the "White Trash Hoochie" category, but with a twist. At least Fisher did time in prison for her crime. This latest entry into the Lowlife Cuntbag Hall of Fame was acquitted by a fucking jury of her "peers", meaning, they were just as mentally retarded as she most certainly is.
Everyone is upset over the fact that our little dysfunctional darling of the week, the maniacal Casey Anthony, was released from prison with time served for what appears to be the intentional and premeditated murder of her adorable 3-year old daughter, Caylee. In Casey's courtroom drama, she truly was judged by a jury of her peers. Everyone was asking how and why a jury could possibly find her not guilty. I'll tell you why-because the jury was comprised of totally brain-dead redneck assholes from (where else?) Florida. How could they possibly find this whore not guilty of killing her little child? Well, "rednecks from Florida" should suffice as to why this travesty of justice took place.
Casey wrapped in the red(neck) white and blue, having a grand ol' time while her daughter lies dead in a Florida field...
This bitch was photographed partying like a sorority house tramp weeks after the disappearance of her child, who let us not forget she never bothered to report to the police. Nor did she report her car missing, which was found in a police tow yard with the stench of a dead body emanating from the trunk.
Stupidity does not adequately explain the jury's verdict. If Casey was, to paraphrase the noxious Don Imus, a nappy-headed ho, the jury would have taken exactly 5 seconds to reel off a unanimous guilty verdict and she would have been sent straight to the electric chair. Because those crackers down South love themselves a good ol' fashioned lynching. This is the same state that tried some black kid eleven or twelve years old as an adult for some gang-related crime that would have put him in jail (with adults) for life. Go figure that one out. Some cracker on the prosecution decided that a young ghetto kid who probably grew up immersed in all manner of social dysfunction has the capacity of an adult to commit a crime, and the jury gleefully ran with it.
Let's get back to Casey. This twat doesn't feel one bit of remorse. She is now on her way to earning millions of dollars from the talk-show circuit, book deals, and whatever else the world has to offer an amoral rat of a human being for killing her daughter and getting away with it. She was found not guilty for three reasons-her looks, her youth and more importantly, her skin color. That is an unbeatable combination that only a terrorist attack perpetrated by the likes of Timothy McVeigh could compensate for.
This cunt just so happened to be a cutey, the type of gorgeous woman you'd see dancing in a South Florida strip club like Porky's before the Colombianas chased most of the white trash away. Usually, a colossal bitch of such inconsequential worth would be sweating up a storm in some nameless trailer park chomping down on some possum pie and living her loser life in abject anonymity. But she has been thrust into the spotlight because of this heinous crime, and she stands to profit handsomely for it.
The sordid details of the trial are all over the internet. This post isn't about that. This is about the form of justice in ass-backwards places like Florida, where inbred good ol' boys and gals rule the roost. The jury was probably thinking "no way could someone who either looks like their daughter, sister, or sex partner be guilty of something like this". A young, cute white girl was all the jury saw. They saw themselves in her. This is why she was acquitted. They related to her story of sexual abuse at the hands of a family member because that's how they roll down South. If someone has a pretty daughter, all the assholes from the family line up to take turns sodomizing her. That's southern hospitality for you.
Casey the uber-cunt, inconsolable after the the loss of her child...
She's said she feels no remorse and is happy that the burden of having to raise a child has been lifted off her shoulders. She is an unrepentant murderer and will, guaranteed, be involved in killing someone again somewhere down the road. And she has been let free to profit from this. This is the America we live in, and it says more about us and the good people of Florida than it does about this creepy, psychotic hoochie who, like other girls with looks and no brains who just want to have fun.
Casey, I say this from the bottom of my heart-I hope you fry in Hell, and I hope you go there very, very soon.
UPDATE-The judge who heard the case has delayed releasing the names of the jurors for a couple of months until the initial outrage boils over. Meanwhile, no one has seen Casey Anthony since she's been released. Word out on the street is that she's out in Hollywood, California cutting deals to cash in on her ill-gotten fame, that fucking bitch. Amy Winehouse found dead, to no one's surprise...
Unfortunately for all of us, she is gone. Amy "Crack House" was found dead in her West London apartment on July 23rd, and all her fans are mourning her death. Like Layne Staley, former lead singer of the grunge rock group "Alice in Chains", Winehouse became a public drug addict; meaning, everyone knew it as they were seeing it and did nothing substantial to save her.
The assholes that stepped to the side to watch the train wreck happen are all guilty, because they found it amusing. No one cared about her talent, they just enjoyed the liquored, speedball-induced show she put on, which wasn't on stage but via the lens of the paparazzi out on the streets of London.
She has appeared so dreadfully unprepared to sing this summer that a spokesperson put out a press release stating she would not continue working for the foreseeable future. That future certainly was foreseeable to everyone except her useless enablers and drug dealers, who should receive the death penalty for what they did.
Winehouse, below left, B.C. (Before Crack) and below right, A.D. (After Drugs)
She put out two great albums-her 2003 debut called "Frank" and the even more successful 2006 release called "Back To Black". The enthralling chanteuse killed it with her bluesy, sexy and melody-infused blend of pop music and jazzy, cool r&b/hip-hop flavored beats. She was also quite beautiful. That ended once she started dating crackhead deluxe Blake Fielder-Civil, and what was a bad marijuana habit spun quickly out of control. She was suffering from early onset emphysema from all the cigarettes and crack she was smoking while getting arrested so many times she was denied a visa to the United States to work.
Her voice suffered, her skeletal, tattooed physical appearance became the object of media ridicule, and she never recorded another album after 2006. From then on she was nothing more than a Charlie Sheen-esque cartoon character the London tabloids feasted on until she passed away. She left her latest rehab stint early to do a 12-gig European tour that ended after the first concert, getting booed off the stage in Serbia of all places (haven't the hapless Eastern Europeans suffered enough?) for singing so poorly and incoherently she could not finish the show.
Amy Winehouse as a school girl, her youth and beauty still intact-
And now, after all the negative media attention, public lunacy and failed rehab stints, this extremely talented and severely troubled recording artist is gone. Her ex-husband is to blame. This ass clown found the world payed attention to him due to his toxic buffoonery and decided it was a god idea to drag her down with him. Her clueless mother saw her the day before she died and stated "she looked out of it". Ya think? Her dealers kept selling her drugs after personally witnessing her physical downward spiral. And yet these people live on, talentless, boorish tabloid chum who will surely find a way to cash in on Winehouses' pathetic life story for a fistful of dollars, whores to the very end.
R.I.P. mi amor-you were one terrifically talented and bad-ass looking young lady.
She is the former 2007 Miss Venezuela and former 2008 Miss Universe. So if aliens land and want to know who one of the most beautiful women on Earth is, we should all collectively point to this incredible young woman, who is so beautiful it hurts just looking at her.
Latin America is renown for it's plastic surgery. Chicas in these countries can finance nose jobs, boob jobs and all other manner of surgical enhancements. All they need is a steady job and the willingness to have the money deducted from their paychecks. Sometimes for their "Quinceañera" (the Latin version of a "Sweet Sixteen" celebration, but done a year earlier at the age of fifteen, coincidentally when many Mexican chicas become grandmothers) the families of the young teenager all kick in money to purchase the cosmetic procedure of her choice.
This is why Latin soap operas are full of actresses who've been carved up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey. On some it is noticeable, on the more naturally beautiful ones and/or those with the loot to afford the very best, it is very subtle. But they all have work done. This isn't to say that it's a bad thing, because the Miss Venezuela contest is full of women who get procedures done almost without question, so in this case Dayana is no exception. But she still loooks mahvelous, dahling-absolutely mahvelous!!! And for this she garners an award more prestigious than any internationally recognized beauty pageant like Miss Universe-she is our "Babe of the Week".
ESPN has the reputation of having dickhead commentators say stupid, insensitive and insulting things all the time and they as a network usually do nothing about it. They have the biggest assortment of useless, neanderthal, fuckface sports writers television has ever seen. This time, the offending asshole du jour is eminent columnist and Twitter twat Michael Smith. I only know this cat from his occasional appearances on "Around The Horn", a half-hour show hosted by Tony Reali. Smith appears on this program with fellow obnoxious windbag Woody Paige. Judging by their attitude towards professional cycling I would give almost anything to see these pricks getting slammed by a car into a barbed-wire fence while doing 30-plus on a bike just so they can see how it tastes.
During a stage of the Tour, an as-yet-to-be identified driver of a car attempted to screech past the day's breakaway and sideswiped a couple of riders, causing some terrible injuries. The riders who were taken out miraculously rejoined the race and finished the day's stage. Their heroism should not go unnoticed. As a cycling enthusiast who has endured three crashes resulting from driver negligence, I cannot tell you how angry I was when a few days ago Michael Smith had the audacity to find this horrific crash funny, and said so on the air.
He then went on Twitter and reiterated his Cro Magnon stance. After the comments against his statements became a flood of vitriol, he offered a half-assed apology that seemed forced, sort of like when the school bully gets pulled into the principal's office to say sorry to the parents of one of the nerdy geeks people like that love terrorizing.
Does Smith deserve to get fired? Yes. Will he? No. Because his comments were actually a step above the usual sports talk blather, and no one at ESPN gives a flying fuck about cycling. They don't consider it s sport, not like basketball, football, hockey or golf. These guys are all the same-they try to make a name for themselves by cozying up to the jocks that America loves to curry favor from them in the form of interviews and access into their gilded lives. They can say what they want about cycling because to them cycling never fit in to the arrogant-jock template these cocksuckers worship.
Team Radio Shack rider Janez Brajkovic crashing out of the Tour-
This year's Tour happened to be extraordinarily brutal for many riders, domestiques and top-10 contenders alike. Quite a few teams lost their leading horses to terrible injuries. Astana's Alexandre Vinokourov broke his femur and pelvis and will retire this season. Radio Shack lost Chris Horner, Andreas Kloden and their young Slovenian hopeful Janez Brajkovic. Alberto Contador crashed four times, badly hurt his knee and was unable to fight back form all the time he lost in the first week.
But it was the sensational crash of lesser-known rider Johnny Hoogerland during a breakaway in stage 9 that made worldwide headlines, for no other reason than pure sensationalism. This poor guy was ridden completely off the road by a car carrying some idiot who isn't even part of the Tour organization. Supposedly the driver was trying to avoid a tree and swerved into a 5-man breakaway, clipped Spanish rider Juan Antonio Flecha into Hoogerland and then sped off without so much as an apology afterwards. Here is the dreadful video of this crackhead maneuver-
This is the accident Michael Smith of ES-fucking-PN thought was so hilarious-
And here are the gruesome photos of the hapless Hoogerland and the damage done to him. Keep in mind he flew into a barbed wire fence wearing nothing but his lycra cycling uniform while hauling ass at 30-plus miles an hour-
The above photo is of Hoogerland trying to extricate himself from the barbed wire fence. The middle photo is the rider patched up by Tour medical personnel who managed to get him back on his bike to finish the stage, albeit 17 minutes down. The photo directly below is Hoogerland, 33 stitches later, on his way to start the next day's stage. Truly heroic. This is what Michael Smith got such a huge guffaw out of. Not only that, his cohort on "Around the Horn", the stumbling, bumbling career alcoholic and serial groper Wood Paige (yes, he was accused of inappropriate behavior towards a female staff member at some stupid morning show called "Cold Pizza" a few years ago) had the audacity to say these types of crashes aren't all that serious because the riders always get up and finish the stage.
Paige is only halfway right. Many cats get up from these types of horrific crashes not because their injuries aren't terrible, but because these so-called skinny geeks clad in tight lycra are some of the toughest motherfucking athletes on the face of the Earth. And as for the injuries they suffer on crashes not being all that serious, Woody, you hyper-inebriated dingleberry, this isn't always the case.
We had one rider die at this year's Giro D'Italia, Belgian Wouter Weylandt of Team Leopard. How many of this poor rider's friends and loved ones wish he could have walked away from his crash? Colombian cyclist Juan Mauricio Soler sustained severe brain injuries at this year's Tour of Switzerland, and has been hospitalized ever since. The poor guy may never live a normal life ever again, yet this is what these assholes at ESPN ridicule whenever pro cycling is brought up in the North American press.
Fuck you, ESPN. And as for Michael Smith, may a thousand camels with fully erect penises pay oral, vaginal and rectal homage to your wife, who defended your statements, further perpetrating the belief that it's OK to laugh at people in a sport you consider a joke.
